


Distraction

by kronette



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Episode Related, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 15:13:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during the episode "Two Days and Two Nights." Written May 2002.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
"Do you want the Captain to find us like this?"    
  
Trip heard Malcolm's outrage and humiliation, but he - and his body - had another reaction. Trip closed his eyes, imagining that he was the only one who got caught by those alien hustlers and tied up in the basement. Bound hand and foot, in his Starfleet issue underwear, waiting to be discovered by his captain.    
  
A slow smile replaced the annoyance he'd felt for hours and he let himself fall into the fantasy.    
  
"Well, well, well."  
  
Jon's voice snapped his head up, where he'd been trying to break free of his bonds. Humiliation colored his cheeks and he couldn't meet Jon's gaze.    
  
Jon shook his head. "You will never learn. It's always something or someone who always gets you into trouble. And it's me who always gets you out."    
  
Jon squatted down in front of him and he had no choice but to look in his eyes. Far too much amusement lit them, and Trip got a sinking feeling in his gut, that only increased when Jon reached out and caressed his chest. He tensed, expecting - something - but the touch was light. He started to relax, then cried out at Jon's sharp twist of his left nipple. His hips involuntarily lifted off the stone floor, the throbbing pain waking his dick.    
  
Jon's calm voice drifted to him, "I think it's time I taught you a lesson."    
  
His mouth went dry, while his dick took even more interest. He stared up at Jon in shock. "What?" he choked out.    
  
Jon stood up and walked a few steps away from him, finally turning and sitting directly across from him, but completely out of his reach. "A lesson. I'm tired of bailing your ass out, Trip," he said as his gaze burned over his body, making Trip ache even more, "Cute as it is."    
  
He licked his lips, hoping to distract Jon from whatever it was he was about to do. Trip didn't trust him with that look in his eye: the slightly dangerous, very aroused, and very predatory gleam. His wet lips only increased the arousal, but didn't diminish the danger. He licked them again, this time nervously. "Jon..."    
  
"Captain," Jon corrected him sharply as one of his hands sneaked under his shirt and began caressing his stomach.    
  
Trip's heart beat triple time, and his breathing was shallow. Jon couldn't, wouldn't play this game with him. By the sultry look in Jon's eyes, it was obvious that he was. Trip swallowed again, his eyes following Jon's hand, rubbing back and forth across his abs. "Jo - Captain," he caught himself from the slip, "What're you planning to do?"    
  
Jon's eyes closed as he tilted his head back, rubbing his hand further up his shirt. When he opened his eyes and locked gazes with Trip, he said, "Make you watch."    
  
Trip couldn't hold back a moan at that. He strained against the wire tying his wrists, digging it into his skin. The pain only reminded him of his helplessness, and his own arousal intensified. He banged his head back against the support beam, his eyes flying open at Jon's soft moan.    
  
Jon had his shirt hitched up, his fingers now tweaking his nipple. His free hand rubbed up and down his thigh, bent up and out to give Trip a good view. And a good view he was getting. Jon was definitely into this, and Trip was getting into it, despite his restrictions. His own thighs fell apart, though his bound ankles kept him from getting comfortable.    
  
He tracked the movement of Jon's hands, one still playing with his nipples, while the other worked at his pants fastener. That hand slipped inside and Trip could just make out the tip of Jon's cock above his fist. His eyes widened as a thought occurred to him: Jon had forgone his Starfleet issue underwear, in favor of none at all. Trip couldn't hold back a frustrated groan. "Have a heart, Captain," he begged.    
  
"I've got one. When I come, I'll let you lick me clean," Jon whispered throatily as he stroked his cock.    
  
"Oh, sweet Jesus," Trip moaned as he leaned forward.    
  
"Stay where you are, Commander," Jon said sharply.      
  
Trip's focus was locked on the hand disappearing and reappearing from inside Jon's pants. He started to get to his knees, to crawl over to Jon and dive his head between his thighs, when Jon barked, "I gave you an order, Commander. You will remain where you are."    
  
"Fuck!" he cried, frustrated tears refusing to leak from his eyes. His cock was throbbing, desperately needing to be touched, stroked, licked, _anything_ at this point. He pushed his forehead off the floor, maneuvering himself back against the beam. He hit it with a dull thump, his thighs once again spread and his cock pushing at his underwear.    
  
"None of that, either," Jon chided him with a clucking of his tongue, which trailed slowly across his lips. "Though you are making a pretty picture. All that color in your cheeks, the fire in your eyes, and well," Jon's eyes drifted down to his untouched cock, "the rest of you."    
  
"Please." Trip never thought he'd be one to beg, but his body was trembling, his pent-up desires for Jon too close to the surface now to ignore. "Please, touch me. I'll do anything."    
  
"I don't think you've earned my touch, have you, Commander?" Jon panted around his words, his breathing more pronounced as his arousal deepened.    
  
"Give me a chance," he pleaded, moving to tuck his legs underneath him again to get to his knees. "Let me prove to you how much I want you." Jon's eyes narrowed at his movement, and he stilled. "I can't stand not touching you!" he growled.    
  
"This is supposed to be a lesson to you, Trip," Jon reminded him, just before his mouth opened in a silent moan as his arched his back with his hand's strokes.  Trip mimicked the movement, willing his body to let go. "What's the point of a lesson if you don't learn anything?"    
  
"What the fuck am I supposed to learn; how to die from not coming?" he shouted, blinking quickly against the sweat falling in his eyes. Every muscle in his body was tensed, just waiting for a nudge to send him over the edge. Jon's moans and pants were growing louder each second, and Trip could sense Jon was close. He looked about wildly for anything to help him. His hands brushed against his ass, and with a quick decision, he started to work his thumb between his cheeks. He held himself up by his heels, his back digging painfully into the support beam behind him. Shifting his hips, he maneuvered his hands until they were nearly underneath him, his fingertips just touching his scrotum. His thighs burning from the strain and his wrists aching, he blinked more sweat out of his eyes as he concentrated on bringing himself to climax.    
  
Jon's voice cried out sweetly, his expression one of extreme pleasure. Trip watched Jon come in awe, memorizing the sound and look of it. He rocked his own hips, curling his fingers and trying to bring himself off.    
  
"Trip," a voice called to him. No, he wouldn't stop. Jon couldn't make him stop. Not when he was so close. "Commander Tucker! Are you even paying attention to me?"    
  
That wasn't Jon's voice. His eyes flew open, but Jon was nowhere to be seen. He struggled to breathe normally, finally remembering that he was still in the basement with Malcolm. Shit, he'd almost gotten lost in that fantasy. His body trembled and his leg muscles spasmed violently from their unnatural position. With a hiss, he lowered himself to the floor. His hands ached where he'd twisted them, and his cock was painfully erect.    
  
"Sorry, Malcolm," he gasped. "I was trying to get loose."    
  
"It sounded like you were running a bloody marathon," Malcolm quipped. "Did you succeed?"    
  
Trip flexed his wrists, wincing at the raw skin. "Nope. Did you have an idea?"    
  
"As a matter of fact, I did. One of us can get to one of the bottles, break it, and use the glass to cut through the bindings."    
  
Trip couldn't get the image of Jon coming out of his mind. "My legs are kinda shaky right now, Malcolm. Do you think you can do it?"    
  
He heard the annoyed, frustrated sigh, and wanted to match it with his own. "Fine. Just rest up. No telling how long this will take."  
  
Hopefully, Trip thought, long enough that his body could cool down. Why couldn't Malcolm have waited five minutes? Couldn't a man even see a decent fantasy to its conclusion? He banged his head against the support beam, willing his body to relax and willing Malcolm to take at least a half hour to get the damn bindings cut. Most of all, he willed his mind to stop replaying Jon's expression. It was bad enough to dream about it, but his frustration only mounted that he couldn't have it for real. His arousal started to dissipate rapidly in the wake of his annoyance. He was going to have to do something about Jonathan Archer, and soon. "Hurry up, will ya, Malcolm? I suddenly have the overwhelming need to get out of here."    
  
"Only now? The last eight hours or so haven't been enough?"    
   
He grinned over at Malcolm, who was hopping toward the crates. Too bad Malcolm's back was to him, or else he'd really get an odd expression tossed back at him. It wasn't every day that Trip wore an evil grin. "It's been a nice distraction, but I'm ready to get back to Enterprise. I've got some things there I need to follow up on."    
  
The End


	2. More Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to "Distraction", set during the episode "Two Days and Two Nights." Originally posted June 2002.

The group that met at the landing pad early afternoon was odd, to say the least. Jon didn't know quite what to make of everyone. Hoshi was acting normal, though her serene expression seemed more at home on T'Pol than her. As for Malcolm and Trip - Jon just shook his head. Trouble always seemed to find Trip no matter where he went, and whatever happened to him on Risa - not to mention getting pregnant several months back - was proof of that. 

Trip graced him with one long, penetrating stare and then climbed into the shuttle without a word. Malcolm started to explain, shook his head, and with a rueful grin, joined Trip in the back. Jon climbed in after them, confident that he'd wheedle the story out of Trip eventually. He started to tease his friend, but Trip's unwavering gaze was unnerving, and the ride back to Enterprise was slightly tense. 

Hoshi agreed to bring clothes for Malcolm from his quarters, but Trip brazenly followed Jon into the corridor to the turbolift. When the door closed, Jon expected Trip to say something, but he remained silent, staring straight ahead. 

"Trip, were you hurt by your...adventure?" he ventured to ask. Trip didn't look injured; no noticeable bumps or bruises, but something was definitely not sitting right with his chief engineer. 

A muscle twitched along Trip's jaw. "I got stunned by a phase pistol of some kind; gave me a killer headache for awhile." 

"You were shot?" Jon's emotions clashed between Starfleet duty and concern for his friend. "Do you know who it was?" 

Trip pursed his lips and shrugged. "Nah. Aliens of some kind. Didn't recognize them. I'll try to describe them as best I can in my report, but I don't think it'll do much good." 

He noticed the smile teasing Trip's mouth, but he didn't get the joke. His sense of relief that Trip wasn't hurt couldn't quite replace the distress he felt that Trip had been in trouble, and he didn't know about it. "Why didn't you call for help?"

Trip wouldn't meet his eyes. The muscle twitched again, and he watched, fascinated, as a blush started up Trip's neck. "Didn't need help. Malcolm and I handled ourselves just fine." 

"I can see that." His eyes flicked over the hotel robe, the days-old scruff, the mussed hair, and felt a tightening in his chest. Trip's scent was strong, especially in such an enclosed space as the turbolift, and Jon couldn't stop himself from taking a deep breath. Not for the first time, he thought the universe was wholly unfair to give him a gorgeous-yet-brilliant chief engineer. Dropping his guard, he commented lightly, "It looks like you were rode hard and put away wet."  
  
Light blue eyes flicked to his, and he caught the barest hint of intense heat. Not unpleasant at all. In fact, it caused his insides to flutter, something that happened quite a bit when he was around Trip, not that he'd let him know it. Jon wasn't about to risk his heart for fear of a one night stand, though some part of him didn't think Trip would do that to him. Didn't think Trip _could_ do that to him. But the possibilities weren't strong enough to override his caution when it came to Charles William Tucker the Third. 

"You could say something like that," said Tucker the Third murmured, his grin dishearteningly familiar to Jon. 

It was the grin of Trip on the prowl, after some woman or another. Jon was well acquainted with it after eight years of knowing the man. He didn't feel like sighing this time; more like heading to his quarters, cracking open the remaining bottle of bourbon he'd sneaked on board and forgetting for awhile. Being best friends with Trip wasn't the easiest job in the world, but he'd managed it so far. He could continue to do it. 

An itching started at the back of his neck, and he realized Trip hadn't stopped staring at him. Unnerved and more than a little aroused, his eyes dropped to Trip's hands, which were toying with the front of the robe. It was hard to ignore the raw, red skin of his wrists and he felt a curse chanting in his head. 

"I thought you said you weren't hurt?" he exclaimed as he pulled Trip's hands up to inspect the wounds. He ran his thumbs along the harsh marks, imagining the bonds that held Trip's wrists together. Anger flared that someone would do this to Trip, but it couldn't outweigh the eroticism his imagination supplied of Trip all trussed-up. His hands involuntarily tightened around Trip's wrists as he tried to force _that_ particular image away. 

He glanced up at the sharp intake of breath. Trip's flush was creeping toward his face now and his breathing was erratic. "Please don't do that," Trip whispered. 

Common sense finally overtook Jon's fantasy dwellings. "If it hurts that bad, you should see Doctor Phlox." 

Trip shook his head, his eyes and tone pleading. "Don't need Phlox. What I need is to get to your quarters, Jon. Now." 

Trip never called him Jon on duty. He rarely called him Jon at all, since his promotion. "Trip, what happened down there?" he demanded, worry raising his voice. "What sort of trouble did you get into? Who-"

The breath was effectively knocked out of him by Trip's body, which pressed him against the side of the turbolift. His hands were pinned beside his head as furiously intense eyes locked onto his. "Who, is you, Jonathan Andrew Archer," Trip declared softly. 

Shock held him immobile. How could he have anything to do with what happened on Risa? Just what did happen down there? And why was Trip suddenly too close, making it hard to breathe? "Me?" he stuttered, hoping to distract Trip, and himself, from the aggressive weight pressing into him. Heat poured off Trip in waves and Jon's body started to respond to the closeness. 

Trip leaned toward him and he had to close his eyes, afraid of the desperation Trip would find there. Was he going to kiss him? What would that sassy mouth taste like? It wasn't the first time he thought of it, but the realization that he might be about to find out sent his body into a spiral of craving. His lips remained untouched and he felt mildly disappointed, but then started as warm breath tickled his ear. Trip's husky voice whispered, "We're going back to your quarters and having a nice, long chat. After that, we'll see what will or won't happen." 

Quarters? Talking? Did Trip seriously expect him to _talk_ while nuzzling him like that? Trip's stubble scratched along his cheek and then lips ghosted along his. His stomach clenched with want and he tried to deepen the contact, but Trip pulled away. 

His eyes snapped open and narrowed at the snuffle of laughter. "Oh, no, we're doing this my way," Trip teased softly. 

His eyes widened as Trip made another sudden move toward him, and then gasped as teeth closed on his earlobe, gnawing gently. He tried weakly to break Trip's hold, but Trip had too much of an advantage; besides, his body wasn't cooperating. His dick was quickly out-thinking his brain, and right now it wanted Trip. With Trip's half-naked body pressed against his, it was damn near impossible to miss the interest on both their parts. He groaned lightly as Trip finally released him and stepped back. 

His eyes raked the aroused body before him and a visible shudder ran through Trip. "God, I love that sound," he murmured as he licked his lips, Jon mimicking the movement. 

His eyes followed Trip's hand as it reached up and caressed his face, thumb stroking along his cheek. He leaned into the unexpectedly gentle touch, wondering just what it was that got into Trip. 

"Your quarters, Captain. You leading, or should I just keep on going?" 

It took him a moment to realize that Trip expected an answer. He shook his head. He frowned. He nodded. He reached over and pushed the button to open the door, and all but fell out of the lift. He didn't look back, but he could sense Trip's presence about three steps behind him. He was grateful for the empty corridor; it would be highly embarrassing in his body's current state to be discovered leading his Chief Engineer to his quarters. 

No, he wasn't leading his Chief Engineer. This was Charles Tucker the Third, his best friend for eight years...and possibly something more. No ranks; no Starfleet. He keyed the sequence to open his quarters and mentally ordered his hands not to shake. His interest had been dormant for so long, that he'd almost forgotten the anticipation. The building of desire. The not knowing what came next. It was the last part that worried him most. What brought on Trip's sudden desires? Did something happen with Malcolm on Risa? 

He felt Trip's breath on the back of his neck and stepped quickly into his quarters. Porthos looked up at him, but seeing it was just Trip following him into his quarters, settled back down. It was nice to know the dog was used to Trip in his quarters; Jon was too, just not in this capacity. But exactly what capacity was that? What were Trip's motives? 

Further speculation would have to wait, as Trip rounded on him as soon as the door closed. Hands firmly against his chest, palms pushing upward and outward in a sensual dance, he couldn't hold back the moan as Trip leaned in to trail his tongue along his neck. Nerve endings came alive under Trip's touch, and he desperately wanted to reciprocate. 

Realizing his hands were free, he slipped them under Trip's robe and settled on his hips, dragging him closer. The man didn't have an ounce of fat on him; it was all muscle. He allowed himself the luxury of running his hands up Trip's back and down to hug the upper curves of his ass. Something he'd dreamed about, but never had the opportunity, until now. Delighting in the feel of muscle under his hands, but still too curious about their situation, he asked, "What brought this on?" 

Trip halted his exploration of Jon's neck, giving it a nip before ice blue eyes searched his face. "I had two days to find the most beautiful women and lose myself in them, and I managed to screw it up. I got myself robbed and tied up in a basement with Malcolm for company. Of all the things in the universe I could have thought of, you were the only thing on my mind. How you'd approach me. What you'd say." Trip leaned closer and just barely touched his lips to his. "What you'd look like when you come."   
His hips involuntarily jerked upward at the whispered words, coming into contact with Trip's groin, and by association, his cock. He always knew that Trip's mouth would be the death of him, but he never expected mere words to finish him off. Breath caught in his throat as that image replayed itself several times in his mind. Not just of himself, but of Trip, head thrown back in ecstasy as his body convulsed. "Oh, shit," Jon groaned. 

That chortling laughter mocked him again. "Pretty much my reaction too, Captain." 

The title snapped him out of the fantasy Trip was weaving. His hands tightened around Trip's waist as he uttered, "Don't." 

Trip grinned and nipped lightly at his neck. "Don't what?" 

He felt himself arching up into Trip's embrace, even as he protested, "Don't call me that. Not here; not like this." 

Trip's eyes snapped with liquid fire and he felt it burn straight through him. "I thought you liked me calling you captain, Captain." 

He struggled to keep up mentally, as his body started to react purely on instinct. "When did I say that?" 

Trip physically retreated, letting a cool wash of sanity tame Jon's high-strung arousal. "I don't remember," Trip answered, clearly not wanting to follow this line of questioning. 

Able to breathe a little easier now, Jon could actually think instead of allowing his body to make all the decisions. He didn't remember ever telling Trip that. But the way Trip mentioned it, like an intimate secret...he struggled not to let his grin show. An intimate secret between the two of them, only this was the first time they'd been intimate - it must be a fantasy of Trip's. Not willing to let the opportunity pass to get one over on Trip, he wheedled, "Come on, Trip. I know I'd remember saying something like that. You can tell me, you know. It's not like I'm not participating in this." He waved his hand at the space between them, indicating their mutual state of arousal. 

Trip's mouth opened and then snapped shut again. "It's not that simple. It's private," he said weakly. 

"Private?" he feigned ignorance. "As in private fantasy?" 

That lovely blush returned to Trip's upper chest and neck, causing an answering flush over Jon's body. "You could say that." 

"Tell me," he urged, breathless. He was more than curious now; he _needed_ to know what Trip dreamed about him. 

Trip folded his arms across his chest in defiance. "No. Absolutely not." 

Annoyed that Trip was being stubborn, Jon closed the space between them and cupped the back of Trip's neck, preventing him from backing up further. "Please," he drawled in a fairly good imitation of the southerner's accent. 

"No." But he could tell Trip was weakening. 

He pulled Trip closer, nuzzling along Trip's jaw to whisper in his ear, "You tell me yours, and I'll tell you mine." 

That got Trip's full attention. "Yours?"

Amusement colored his words. "Did you think you were in this alone? Did you see me struggling to get out of your arms? Didn't you feel my hands on your ass?" The last question was accompanied by a quick slide of his hand across Trip's ass, settling there proprietorially. 

A sharp intake of breath accompanied the slightly glazed look in Trip's eyes. "You thought about me?" 

His head swam dizzily at the wonder in Trip's eyes, though he was sure it was mirrored in his own. This all seemed surreal, but the skin and muscle underneath his hands was very real, and very warm. "If not, I would have knocked you on your ass back in the turbolift," he admitted for the first time. The rush of excitement at voicing his desires compelled him to slowly drag his hand down Trip's ass, fingertips playing between the firm cheeks. The deep groan sent blood pulsing to his cock, but he was determined to get an answer out of Trip. "Now, I want to know what brought this on. You were robbed and tied up. How does that equate with wanting to jump me the second we got back on Enterprise?" 

Trip's eyes closed and his head fell slowly back, clearly not hearing a word he said. To get his attention, Jon dragged Trip's head closer and flicked his tongue against the parted lips. Another soft sound emerged and Jon found himself wanting to hear it again. He licked at the parted lips, tasting the sweat of the past few days, but underneath that was pure Trip essence. Trip's tongue met his on his third pass, and he lost himself in the kiss, teasing and flicking and sucking at the lips he never thought he'd taste. A burning fire settled in the pit of his stomach, coming straight from his lips down to his cock. 

His hand found the neckline of Trip's underwear and tugged sharply, finally succeeding in ripping the cloth away. His other hand dove into Trip's briefs, cupping his balls. He felt Trip's forearm brush against the side of his head, fingers reflexively tugging at his hair as Jon's mouth dove for Trip's neck and his hand closed around Trip's cock. 

A hiss of breath accompanied a sharp bite to the underside of his jaw as desperate hands yanked at his shirt and pants. They parted long enough to get Jon's shirt over his head, and then mouths and teeth collided once again. He tasted blood on his tongue, and the sting of Trip's teeth dragging at his lower lip. Nails scraped along his bare back, across his stomach, and then up his chest. Pain rode the edge of pleasure, making him rock hard and barely able to stand. 

Sharp barking and familiar paws digging into his leg forcibly distracted him, and with a groan, he ceased his attack on Trip. "Damnit! Porthos, down," he ordered breathlessly. 

"Sure picked a great time to interrupt us," Trip agreed, panting against his chest. Porthos yipped again, this time jumping up at Trip's leg. "Porthos!"

Arousal dampened for the time being, Jon kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants which had pooled around his ankles. He then bent down and forced Porthos to look him in the eye. "Stop that right now. Trip and I aren't going to play with you." 

"We're reserving that for each other," Trip drawled. 

"Trip," he threatened without looking up. He could imagine the smirk on Trip's face just fine without seeing it. "Porthos, stay," he instructed as he led the dog to his bed. "Stay," he repeated, hating the whine the dog let out. 

Arms slipped around him from behind and Trip's chin rested on his shoulder. He covered Trip's hands with his own, instinctually, as if they'd always been around his waist. "He just wants to know what's going on. Haven't you had anyone in these quarters before?" Trip asked. 

Jon felt heat rise along his own chest and neck. "Not in that way, no." Before Trip could make some comment, he added, "Have you?" 

"Had anyone in these quarters in that way?" Trip deliberately misinterpreted his question. "I'm not one to go messing in the captain's quarters." 

He turned in Trip's arms, eyebrows raised. "You're not?" he questioned with his best innocent look, while his hands once again found their way to Trip's nearly bare chest. 

Trip matched his stance, fingertips rolling across his nipples. "Not without the captain present," he murmured as he leaned in for another kiss. 

It wasn't the sexually charged fusion of their earlier kiss. It was slow, languid; one that could take hours to appreciate. Jon loved to kiss, and it was evident that Trip did, too. He delved deeply into Trip's mouth, tongues slicking against one another. He felt like a teenager again, wanting nothing more than to map the taste and texture of his partner, until the new became familiar. 

After a great while, their kisses took on more urgency, the steady ebb of desire heightening bit by bit, until Trip broke away, panting. "I'm hurting here, Jon." 

His body was humming, pushed to the limit of being able to stand upright and continue. "Me, too," Jon gasped. He grabbed firm hold of Trip's robe and pulled him toward the bed. Quickly yanking down the neck of the robe, he trapped Trip's elbows at his sides. 

Searing heat flashed in Trip's eyes as he tested how strong the hold was, and something clicked into place. Trip's fantasy. The remembered huskiness in Trip's voice set Jon's blood thrumming through his veins all over again. If Trip wanted to be ordered around by his captain - and by the look in Trip's eyes, he desperately wanted to - he wasn't going to be the one to deny his lover. Jon savagely kissed the swollen lips once more before pulling back and narrowing his eyes. "On your knees." 

Astonishment colored the already flushed cheeks as Trip gulped. "What?" Hope and fear mingled on the barely whispered word. 

Initially, Jon wasn't comfortable with Trip calling him captain while they were both nearly naked, but he was getting into the part. More into it than he thought he could. Imagining Trip on his knees in front of him sent tendrils of pleasure throughout his body. He emphasized Trip's rank, "You heard me, Commander. On your knees."

The sharp intake of breath and slightly glazed look in Trip's eyes said that he'd hit the mark. Trip was as turned on by this as he was. "Yes, sir," Trip whispered. 

He watched through hooded eyes as Trip slowly sank to his knees, his face and mouth inching toward the one place Jon desperately needed him. Trip's hands stroked along his sides, pulling down his briefs as he finally knelt at Jon's feet. Trip met and held his gaze as his tongue flicked the head of his cock. The coolness contrasted harshly against his body's heat, and he groaned. 

"Still love that sound," Trip said with a saucy grin. 

Before he could fire off a smart remark about using his mouth for other purposes, Trip engulfed him. Breath stolen from his lungs at the incredible heat now surrounding him, Jon was barely able to grab onto Trip's shoulders for balance. The throbbing pulse and the wet heat and the tongue wrapping around his cock, drawing it out, making him harder, Trip's cheeks hollowed out as he sucked, Jon's legs shook as Trip hummed around his prize, driving him closer and closer to the edge. 

"Stop," he stuttered, fingers tightening on Trip's shoulders painfully. "Please." Jon's heart pounded loudly in his ears as Trip removed his mouth, tongue trailing along the bottom of his cock. 

Trip licked his lips and gazed up at him expectantly, his lips swollen and glistening. His briefs were tugged half-way down, and his undershirt was in tatters. The robe was still around his elbows, and Trip looked absolutely fuckable kneeling at his feet. 

Reaching down, Jon grabbed him by his upper arms and yanked him to his feet. A flash of indignation colored the blue eyes, but abruptly changed to lust as he ordered, "Bed, now." 

He received no protest, and Trip arranged himself in the middle of the bed, arms still trapped by the robe, giving him limited movement. He attacked Trip with the same ferocity as Trip had to his cock, nipping and sucking at exposed skin.   
He covered Trip with his body, licking at the salty skin at the base of Trip's throat. His hand splayed over Trip's chest, fingernails flicking at hardened nipples as his other hand worked down Trip's briefs to expose his cock. 

Frustrated whimpers accompanied restless movements as he moved from neck to chest, nipping at skin, laving it with his tongue. He finally tore the remains of Trip's undershirt away, and he trailed open-mouthed kisses down each rib until a high keening sound drew his attention. 

His eyes traveled Trip's body, lingering over the red patches where he'd worried the skin between his teeth. Sweat highlighted the shining skin, marking the path he'd made. Trip's head was thrown back, spine arched up, every muscle tensed. The sight took Jon's breath away and made his cock spasm with need. Trip's chest was rising and falling quickly, almost too quickly; he looked on the verge of coming. Without warning, Jon grasped the straining cock to prevent that. 

"Fuck!" Trip shouted, hips coming off the bed. It took all Jon's willpower not to let Trip come right then and there, just to see the expression change on his face. Unfocused, lust-filled eyes met his. "Oh, God, please. I gotta touch you. I can't stand it anymore. I'm going out of my mind." 

An ache started deep in his chest, matching the ache of his own swollen cock, and he helped Trip sit up. He barely shoved the robe out of the way before Trip was upon him, mouth against his skin; hot, wet, demanding. Hands tangled in hair, slicked over skin, rubbed and stroked cocks to the bite of climax, then backed off to take it up another level. 

Porthos decided that right then would be a good time to interrupt their play to bark at the savageness of their enthusiasm. Jon tried to ignore it, but feared someone might hear the dog and decide to check up on him. Mouth leaving the tasty bit of Trip's shoulder he'd been sucking on, he shouted, "Porthos, quiet." 

Trip left the nipple he'd been worrying with this teeth to slide down Jon's body, ragged breath caressed his lower abdomen. "I love it when you get all commanding," he announced breathlessly.

Teeth nipped at the skin of his inner thigh and Jon couldn't stop a strangled gasp from escaping. "Then get your ass up here so I can manhandle it," he ordered, though it sounded more like a plea to his ears. 

"Yes, sir," Trip answered quietly. 

Jon knew he was in trouble the second that soft voice uttered those words. He moaned as Trip's tongue and mouth took the long route up his body, neglecting the one place Jon desperately wanted Trip to touch him. By the time Trip reached his lips, Jon was ready to capitulate to anything Trip wanted as long as it involved coming. 

Trip's body splayed out over his, overheating them both. Sweat dripped from Trip's hair onto his cheek, which Trip then licked off. "How'd you want to handle my ass, Jon?" was murmured in his ear. 

His hands stroked possessively over the finally naked ass in question, teasing at the cleft. His throat muscles refused to work, and he couldn't utter a sound. 

Trip leaned back to look in his eyes and something in his gaze must have said what he couldn't, because Trip kissed him softly. "I want you inside me, too. I feel like some part of me's missing and you're the only one who can find it." He grinned sheepishly. "Or something like that." 

An unexpected laugh bubbled up, lightening the mood enough for Jon to recoup his bearings. He slapped Trip's ass as they shifted to a sitting position. "Be right back," he promised, sealing it with a kiss. 

He padded barefoot into the bathroom for the lotion he kept for those late nights when the bed seemed a bit too big and empty. He turned and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight before him. Trip lay propped up on one elbow, other arm carefully arranged to not block the view of his cock. 

He returned quickly, kissing Trip until he lay back on the bed, legs wrapped around Jon's. The lightly tanned skin against the red sheets was shameful, as was the sheer wantonness that Trip displayed as he shifted and wriggled underneath Jon. "Don't you have a decent bone in your body?" he growled in Trip's ear. 

"No, and I'm hoping you don't either," Trip retorted. "You going to hurry this up, or am I going to spontaneously combust?" 

He nipped Trip's ear for his impatience. "It's been a long time since I've done this," he half-explained, half-apologized. "But I hear it's just like riding a bike." Two lotion-covered fingers slid into Trip's tight channel, and he hissed as the muscles contracted around them. 

Trip let out a long, shaky breath, and the muscles loosened enough for Jon to wiggle his fingers a bit. "Sweet Jesus," Trip moaned as he gripped Jon's upper arms. 

"Easy," he murmured as he stretched Trip, gauging his expressions to know when he was ready. It'd been a long time for him, but something told him Trip hadn't done this before. He stilled his fingers and studied Trip's grimace. If Trip was feeling any pleasure right now, he wasn't showing it. He immediately withdrew his fingers. "Trip, haven't you done this before?" he asked, apparently unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice, as he received a glare in return. 

"What, you think I go around spreading my legs for just anyone?" Trip sniped at him. 

The harshly flung words stung. He knew Trip's reputation; he knew Trip's habits. No woman had made it past half a year. What was he supposed to think? Seeing the hurt in Trip's eyes, he felt shame wash over him. He was supposed to be Trip's best friend. They were supposed to be able to tell each other anything. Steeling himself, he replied, "You tell me about all your dates, Trip. I don't recall any mention of men." 

That southern scowl softened to an almost blank stare. "That's because there weren't any. Just a few adventurous women." 

Despite himself, a mocking eyebrow raised in question. "How adventurous?"

Even over Trip's sweat-slicked, reddened skin, Jon could see the flush spreading across his upper chest. "Can we not talk about this now? I'm horny as hell, damnit!" 

Chuckling at Trip's obvious attempt to get back to their main reason for being naked in his bed, Jon slapped the side of his thigh. "All right then, Trip. Spread 'em." 

That earned him another glare, but the heat shining from Trip's eyes had nothing to do with anger. He slid his body between Trip's thighs, rubbing his stomach along Trip's cock, to place a chaste kiss on the full lips. "For me," he murmured. 

Eyes fluctuated between embarrassment and desire fixated on him, then Trip groaned, "Aw, hell," and his thighs fell open. 

Torn between grinning at the sight and burying himself as deeply as possible, as quickly as possible, Jon rolled away to slick his own cock. Before Trip could voice a protest at having been left out in the cold, Jon was back between his thighs, pushing his knees up. "Keep your legs there," he instructed, tucking Trip's ankles along the backs of his thighs. 

Trip's breathing was a little erratic, and he got the impression it wasn't all from desire. "It's okay, Trip. It'll hurt a bit, but not for very long." He placed another kiss on Trip's mouth, then worked the head of his cock into the tight channel. 

A flash of pain crossed Trip's face, but his features evened out quickly. "Shit," he muttered as they locked gazes. "You're going to split me in two." 

Jon placed tiny kisses along Trip's jaw and neck, trying to soothe and relax him. "I promise, I won't." He tried to hold still, to give Trip time to adjust to his intrusion, but Trip's muscles were twitching around him, trying to draw him in deeper. It didn't help that Trip was wiggling his hips. He felt himself starting to slide in, and tried to warn Trip, but events spiraled out of control. 

Trip's gasp was drown out by his groan as he slid balls-deep inside. Feeling Trip around him was indescribable. The throb of Trip's pulse keeping time with his. Little tremors from the muscles around his cock. It was all too much, and he didn't dare move for fear of coming. 

Trip's harsh pants of breath nearly drown out the pounding of his heart. "You okay?"

Trip nodded, though his eyes were still squeezed shut. Another minute passed that felt like eternity to Jon, before Trip's eyes opened and focused on him. 

"I think so. Just - never felt that before. I can feel you in me," Trip said, eyes full of wonder. 

He smiled at that, and bent down to kiss the upturned nose. "You okay to continue?" 

The indignation he was beginning to love flashed again in Trip's eyes. "If you don't, I'm gonna get Phlox to deem you unfit for command and take the damn ship from you," he warned. 

Jon rolled his hips, and Trip's eyes rolled to the back of his head. "Never threaten a captain with his ship," he murmured as he started a steady rhythm, trying to find the right balance between hard and shallow. It took a few minutes, but he finally found Trip's sweet spot, and the surprised, "Mother fuck!" and fingernails digging into his back almost made him lose his concentration. Trip's body was stroking him in all the right ways, and he didn't think he could hold out much longer. 

His little excursion on Risa must have weakened him more than he thought, because his arms started to shake. Unsteady now, and on the verge of climax, he fought to slow down enough to think. Ignoring Trip's groaned protest as he slipped from his body, Jon switched positions with Trip and pulled him to his lap. Eyes wide with curiosity and burning with hunger, Trip hissed as Jon started Trip sinking down on his cock. 

"Shit," Trip exclaimed as he kept slipping down. "I didn't think you could get any deeper." 

"I think that's about it," he gasped, his knuckles white where he grasped Trip's hips. "Now, rock." 

Trip moved a fraction, his head immediately falling back and his eyes closing. "Oh my God, Jon, why didn't anyone ever tell me?"

A little too honestly, he declared, "You never asked." 

Trip stilled and lifted his head, eyes boring down into Jon's. Dozens of emotions flicked in the blue depths and one danced around that Jon was more than a little afraid of. It flitted like a pixie in Trip's eyes, going as deep down as Jon had ever seen of his friend, now lover. Some of his fear must have shown, because Trip leaned forward and brushed his lips gently, and then began moving his hips slowly. Fingertips dug into his chest as Trip got lost in the sensation, and Jon had the presence of mind to take hold of Trip's cock and stroke it in time to Trip's thrusts. Thoughts fled as Trip's muscles squeezed him, urging him toward climax faster than he'd like. His hips thrust up, slamming into Trip's, his hand tightened around Trip's cock, and he felt warmth covering his hand as his body let go. 

He felt himself slip out of Trip and he sighed at the cool air surrounding his cock. Trip was heavier than he looked, but he didn't mind the weight. He nuzzled at the shoulder closest to his mouth. "You okay?"

A warm gust of air accompanied a laugh. "I don't think 'okay' is in my vocabulary anymore," Trip drawled, his movements lethargic as he raised his head to stare down at Jon. 

Hair in disarray and matted with sweat, lips swollen, reddened patches of skin across his shoulders and chest; Trip looked well and truly fucked. Jon supposed he looked about the same, only somehow, he doubted he had the shit-eating grin curving his lips. 

"What're you smiling about?" Trip demanded. 

Well, maybe he did have the shit-eating grin. He wouldn't know until he looked in a mirror, and that required movement that he just wasn't ready for. He smoothed his hands down Trip's back, to rest at the curves of his ass. 

Trip's grin widened. "You seem to have this fascination with my ass," he declared. "I'm thinking you might want to get some therapy or something." 

"I'm only holding onto what's mine," he said innocently. 

Trip leaned in to nibble along his neck up to his ear, and though he expected it, still jumped at the sharp nip to his earlobe. A hand slipped down his side, between their bodies, to wrap around his cock. "And I'll hold onto what's mine," Trip whispered. 

He met Trip halfway, tongues slicked against one another without urgency, just familiarity and mutual satiation. Something tickled his foot, and he flicked it, trying to get it to stop. It continued. He broke the kiss to threaten, "Trip." 

The confused expression looked sincere. "What?" Trip's mouth abruptly bloomed in a smile. "What're you doing to my feet?" 

It was Jon's turn to be confused. "I'm not doing anything." 

They both turned around until they could look down at the end of the bed, at Porthos looking at them expectantly. Trip turned to him with a grin. "Guess I've been welcomed into the family." 

Jon sighed. "He's used to sleeping on the bed with me. There isn't enough room for you, boy," he tried to explain, but Porthos rarely understood human-speak, especially when it came to the word 'no'. 

Trip began to squirm, sending sparks of delight through Jon's body. Not enough to arouse him again, but enough to remind him that the interest was still there. 

Trip finally settled down, head resting on Jon's shoulder, body half-draped across Jon's. "Porthos, up!"

Happily, the dog bounded up onto the bed, sniffing around and finally settling down by their tangled legs. "See? Plenty of room in the bed for three," Trip said smugly. 

"So long as the dog is the only addition to this bed," he commented lightly, though he knew intimately of Trip's inclination to wander. 

Fingers tilted his chin up, until he couldn't avoid Trip's eyes. They were open and honest, and he could read every emotion. It scared the hell out of him to have that much directed at him. 

Trip's voice was deep and raw as he explained, "I have a tendency to royally screw up relationships. Remember that letter I got from Natalie a few weeks into the mission? It was written before we even left spacedock. The list before her isn't as long as I let everyone think, but they all ended the same, with me being alone. I don't mind being alone most of the time, but I'm discovering space can get mighty cold." 

Porthos snuffled and whined, and repositioned himself so his head could lay on top of Trip's feet. 

Jon smiled fondly at the gesture. "I think Porthos speaks for both of us," he said softly, and gave Trip a light, but thorough, kiss. 

Trip settled down on his shoulder, and they listened to the thrum of the warp engine through the deck plating. Jon was drifting to sleep, when a startling question caused his eyes to snap open. 

"So, captain, what's this fantasy you have about me?"   
  
The End


End file.
